fear and one word

i have a sweet precious friend. who lost her daughter about the same time as we lost sydney.

we have a sweet connection and i am so thankful for her. and to witness and share in her grief fight for joy.

she blogged this week that she was struggling, she felt lost and drowning in her grief.

one friend commented on her page, "i don't even know how you momma's get up every day and get through your days sometimes...love you."

to me, i felt an echo in my heart. oh yes, friend. i get that. i so get that. it just overwhelms sometimes, doesn't it?

to others, some might have said, really? four years later? hasn't time helped?

but to those who have held their dying or dead child in their arms, you know time and years does NOTHING to erase that memory and what that experience does to a parent, a human being, a woman.

and it resonated again in my heart and head. yes, i DO get up everyday and get out of bed and press on. how do i do that? how do i not collapse in my grief and pounding hurting heart some days?

i feed on Truth.

i lay with liam last night, holding him tightly in our big bed. he couldn't sleep, he had had a very anxious day of getting cavities filled with needles and shots and such. it was quite traumatic for a 7 year old. i let him lay in our big bed (safe haven for kids) to fall asleep and i held him tightly and we talked and whispered and cuddled. he talked about fear. and i fed him Truth. i held him there so sweetly and thought about how i struggle with fear. with the idea of ever having to lose another child again, to have to face that again, is a horrible fear that has plagued me since we lost sydney, debilitating at times. i know we are not to worry about things that we can't control or things that haven't even happened. we are to trust and not be anxious for anything. but my biggest catch and struggle with fear has been this. my kids.

i know Truth. i trust it completely. i also have an experience in my head that haunts me.

i get up out of bed, i press on, i get busy with life. i take care of the boys and ian and our home. i teach, i love, i clean and i nurture. i have a responsibility and a job. i can't really stop and get lost in my fear most days. but it still creeps in. the aching and missing? yes. the what if's? yes. holding her? oh yes. it was so hard to hold her and not see her open her eyes or cry out for me, or wiggle or root for me... but the trauma. oh the trauma. of leaving her. leaving her behind. even four years later, it makes me sick to my stomach, almost immediately needing to vomit, when i recount having to leave her. when i see fear coming it wears that memory as a cloak. some of you have lost your purse or left your phone or wallet behind somewhere...that nagging feeling that you left something important behind and you won't feel safe until it is returned......please, please try and imagine that wallet or purse or phone is your daughter. the trauma that has stayed with me for four years is both the moment that we got the news she was gone and more hauntingly the moment i had to give her over and leave her. several days after she was born, i had to leave her. i held her closely as mine, close to my heart and my chest, my face buried in her chest, wet with my tears and covered in my prayers...and then i had to leave her. give her over to a nurse, a complete stranger. walk out the door of my hospital room and leave her. i had to leave her behind.

when fear comes for me, the enemy waves that moment in my head and i either collapse, wherever i am, spent with emotion and grief OR i get busy and try to distract or use thought replacement to push that image out of my mind. feeling guilty for trying to push it away, i keep pushing it because i know it means i survive for another day. because for me, i have to feed myself Truth. i have to go to places where my God ushers me into safe haven peace that only He can give, i have to run to a Refuge that hears my pleas and begging for Jesus to come and rest my mind and give me peace. i have to go there. the other choice is paralyzing for me. i must feed on Truth. even if it's just me saying His sweet name outloud. Jesus.

so you see, a momma, even four years later. has grief. she has longings and achings. but please remember that she also has trauma. post traumatic syndrome is crazy real for those who have been in battle. holding your still child and leaving them behind is the worst, most traumatic of battles a mom could fight. it stays with you. no matter how many years pass, the reality and the memory, they are there. you wear them, behind every laugh and smile and praise and raised hand in worship, i wear mine.

i will NOT let the enemy use my fears to paralyze me. i am fighting daily to not let him use those fears as i raise our boys. i am fighting like hell to LIVE in the light of the freedom that comes with Christ, and to not be enslaved to fear. i preach to myself that God is sovereign and i must trust Him alone. and rest in His plan for me. no matter what.

and when i get scared. and i get anxious and when i feel like the trauma has taken over.....i run to the safest haven i know, just like my son finds safety and rest in our big bed and momma's arms, i run to my own version. "our christian life, our NEW life is based upon remembrance..." i run to to Truth and i recall and recount and remember what He has done for me. how he overcame the grave and death and made all things to come untrue one day with one last breath. that this trauma i carry will one day be released from me. and i will be truly free from it.

and for now? when i need to fight fear? to fight the enemy's taunts? well, one word befalls the enemy. JESUS!

praise GOD.